


Baba Yaga

by MaskedAgony



Category: John Wick (Movies), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - John Wick (Movies) Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Gang Violence, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Redemption, M/M, Smut, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:08:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25791853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskedAgony/pseuds/MaskedAgony
Summary: “𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲... 𝐢𝐬 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧„
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben Solo/Original Female Character(s), Ben Solo/Reader, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Kudos: 12





	1. Summary & Introduction

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐚 𝐘𝐚𝐠𝐚

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀•••

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 𝗝𝗼𝗵𝗻𝗪𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝗨 𝗦𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀

⠀ 

⠀ 

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ “𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲... 𝐢𝐬 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧„

⠀ 

⠀ 

𝘿𝙚𝙨𝙘.

⠀ The High Table are the rich and the 

⠀ powerful. The people who’s money never 

⠀ ends and whose connections spread far. 

⠀ Upon the mysterious death of infamous 

⠀ assassin, Han Solo, his heir was quick to 

⠀ claim his titles. 

⠀ Kylo Ren, a given name from his former 

⠀ employers of The Empirical Mob, was known 

⠀ for his clean and successful handiwork in 

⠀ the hitman field. He was quick to gain his 

⠀ father’s titles and even quicker to gain job 

⠀ opportunities from a variety of members of 

⠀ the High Table. 

⠀ The young Solo began his position as an 

⠀ assigned hitman under The First Order, 

⠀ eliminating those deemed a threat to his 

⠀ boss, Snoke. The cleanliness of his work, 

⠀ began to become slobby, horrid looking; this 

⠀ change being courtesy of Snoke’s desire to 

⠀ reign terror into those who opposed him. 

⠀ Snoke reigned with an iron fist, striking fear 

⠀ into any of those who opposed his decisions 

⠀ at the Table. 

⠀ What will happen when the High Table 

⠀ begins to come to odds with one another? 

⠀ What will happen when a new, younger mob, 

⠀ The Resistance, comes to oppose the power 

⠀ of The First Order? 

⠀

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙎𝙚𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧 𝙊𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙣𝙖. 𝙎𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙫𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚.”

⠀

⠀


	2. Beware

_ September, 21, 2XXX _

He crawled back, attempting to escape the black like cloud that followed him with grace. Puddles that had formed from dips and cracks in the concrete clung to the dark grey wool of his suit pants. The pain from the snapped bone within his leg had ceased through the adrenaline that coursed through his aging body. With an exhausted gasp, he allowed his body to rest against the rough surface of a faded blue shipping container. Grey hairs clung to his wrinkled face while his heaving blue hooded eyes looked helplessly to the husk of a man he once knew. 

The boy who wailed in his arms in his first few hours in this cruel world, the boy who wept into his arms upon expressing the discomfort he felt in his own skin, and the boy who now stood before him with an expression he had found so foreign on his son’s face. 

The boy stood tall, black Butler Cap-Toe Oxford shoes causing small splashes to be created upon his impending approach, and black hair sticking to his pale skin with a combination of rain and sweat. The boy had mistaken the older man’s age for weakness, such naive thoughts left him with several bruises and a black eye. Potentially a broken rib or two from how pained his labored breaths were. 

> “Ben-”

The words caught in his throat at the sight of a handgun that created an air of irony. The HK-45 Tactical had been the very first weapon he had given his son upon his boy's acceptance as a hitman by the High Table. That had been a day of great pride, a day of great accomplishment. Now the very thing that he handed his son now was aimed towards his head. 

> “You have been labeled as a traitor to the High Table, Han Solo.”

A shaky breath shook the man who stood in a soaked tailored suit. Brown embers gazing into the eyes of his creator. 

> “You have been granted the right to last words. Make them quick.”

The baritone from the looming figure would have caused a shiver of fear to ride up any normal individual’s spine; however, Han found himself chuckling at such.

> “Did Snoke tell you to say that?”

> “You do not have the right to speak his name.”

> “Whatever you say, kid. Just please-”

The words that escaped him were only shared between two souls that night and only one of those souls would live. Those words would haunt him as he cocked the handgun, as he laid his aim upon the very man he onced idolized. 

Han left this world with a smile and a hopeful wish.

> “See ya around, kid.”

  
  


\------------------------------------------------* **POP** *------------------------------------------------

_ Present Day  _

He woke with a start, eyes wide and bloodshot from the heavy tears that fell from his eyes. That moment haunted him, those words haunted him. His father couldn’t expect him to really do it, right? He’d never be able to accomplish such a wish. 

Kylo knew not of what laid ahead of him that day. He had been able to rest for only a handful of days before being beckoned by The First Order’s leader, Snoke. While Snoke was deemed powerful in the eyes of the High Table, little knew of the man who truly ran the show. The true leader of The First Order, the true leader of the High Table, Sheev Palpatine. The man was close to kicking the bucket, year after year Snoke would wait, knowing the man’s death would grant him ownership of the Order and rightful placement at the High Table. 

Kylo allowed his eyes to adjust to the sun's rays peeking in through the blood red blinds; the bright sheets of his designated room in the Crumb Continental illuminating from the blinding light. Upon Salacious’s deemed loyalty to the Hutt Enterprise, he was given control of one of the many Continental’s within the High Table’s control. Located in Castilon, New York, it had become a location Kylo Ren had found himself frequenting. 

The Crumb Continental to the modern eye held a great beauty and grace to it. Dark oak wood furniture contrasted the bright red and white accents of the room. The white sheeted bed held the bare chested Kylo, his raven locks contrasting beautifully against the red and white patterned headboard. Across him stood a wooden desk and chair, holding his wool, tailored suit jacket. A quick glance to his bedside table was all it took for him to become temporarily blinded by the reflective silver coating of the single Gil Hibben knife that lain abandoned.

It took little effort for the large adult to throw the sheets off of his sweat stricken figure. The black sweatpants rested upon his hip bone, the length of them just barely passing his ankles. 

Walking towards the dark oak door, which held a square section of textured glass upon the upper portion, he made his way into the bathroom. His once warmed feet were met with the cold white on white tiling of the bathroom floor, while his eyes adjusted to the brightly lit bathroom. The glossy finish on the wall tiles provided assistance in lighting the bathroom. The sink stood beneath an off centered squared mirror, water stains littered what should have been a persteint surface. To the left sat a white porcelain tub, wrapped in a marble slab, and a porcelain toilet not too far off. To the right stood a wall to floor sheen of glass, which blocked any potential water from the shower head from reaching further into the bathroom. The silvered handles matched the rest of the faucetry that littered the elaborate bathroom. 

Upon shutting the door behind him, he allowed the cottoned pants to leave his hips and exposing himself to the cooled air of the tiled space. Steadily he made his way to the shower, allowing the slowly warming waters to lull him into a peaceful headspace.

Thoughts of why he had been so suddenly called by Snoke for ‘urgent matters’ and why such a call was to be received, before the sun could peak beyond the horizon, corrupted him. He knew better than to argue with his superior, such experiences with the man in regards to disobedience had taught him that. He had committed himself to the First Order in a blood oath, a sacred bond that few ever broke. With a shake to his head, he allowed the racing thoughts of curiosity fade, it would do him no good to think further into this matter when he was to meet with the man later in the day. 

With a quick cleansing of his body and a softened white towel wrapped around his waist, he made his way back into the room. He had hoped that little time had passed, but it had appeared to be quite the opposite. The thoughts that plagued him in the shower had distracted him for little over an hour; therefore, he would need to quicken his actions, and make haste to the company building. With a crouch he squirmed one of the two duffle bags out from under the bed, letting it bounce upon the mattress as it was placed upon it. 

A zipping sound came from the bag as it exposed its contents to its owner. A collection of suits lay neatly within, a small voft of detergent further exposing the newity of the suit. The smoothed texture of wool rested against his calloused fingertips as he grabbed a hold of the suit’s coat. He allowed himself to remove the contents of a black tuxedo, a white cotton, french-cut dress shirt, butler black leathered oxford shoes, and a small black box. The cotton shirt hugged his arms and torso, bringing emphasis to his widened figure. The slim fitted, black suit complemented the pale of his skin and the midnight sky colored hair his head held. The black leathered shoes slipped on and were tied with great ease. Shoes his size were few and far between; hence, he often had shoes customized for his feet. With each shoe he would allow the bottoms to be of a red coating, a small yet important sign of his allegiance towards The First Order. The black box was opened slowly to expose a set of silver cuffs, holding the infamous symbol of The First Order resting upon a red velvet. The cuffs rested upon his shirt's wrists with ease, and a sigh of contentment left his soft lips. 

The bag was zipped and topped with the second duffle bag; however, the contents within did not remain silent upon their dropping on the bed, inside they admitted a plastic and metal clanking noise. Similar to its double, the duffle opened with a zipping noise to expose its contents to Kylo. Within sat an array of weaponry, mostly magazines with various fillings of bullets. The man's hand reached inside to obtain what he had only recently became comfortable with yielding regularly, a P30L. The handgun was barren of a magazine, and in need of a cleaning from its appearance. Ren was quick to load a magazine within, allowing it to remain uncocked for the time being, along with an additional magazine. Beside the P30L laid a weapon he had avoided using unless absolutely necessary, as its hold seemed to trigger the recurring terrors of the life it had taken a handful of years ago. With a bite to his lip he avoided the 45 tactical, instead directing his hand towards the round butt Scandium, the frame holding a silver like reflection as opposed to the black matte finish the other guns held. Placing the P30L within a pocket in his tux top, the other within a holster in the back of his pants, and two additional magazines resting within the other inside pocket of his tux top he was ready to go. 

The empty duffle and his sweat pants were shoved in the duffle containing the weaponry without a second thought, before once more being shoved underneath the hotel bed. Kylo knew any further delay towards the front building would warrant him a lecture from the elder of a man, causing him to hastily grab the brown leathered messenger bag that rested upon the cushioned desk chair and made haste towards the room's entry door. 

The door opened with a simple turning of a metal lock, before shutting once more behind the brute of a man; a small beep being made from the key fob port on the door. 

With great strides, he made his way down the halls of the lavish Continental. Dark Oak beams and various marble slabs contrasted against each other and brought emphasis to the money of the establishment. To any other bystander, it could appear as nothing more than a lavish hotel, nestled within the hustle and bustle of New York life; however, the darkness and secrets it held could shake even the most hollow individual. 

Only about a couple meters away, stood the posh entry way; Ren having made his way down the LED lit hallways with great haste. Twi’lek and Zabark among many others roamed and lounged in the chandelier lit way. While the various species remained wrapped into either conversation or their technology, Ren found himself laser focused upon the hologram behind the clerk desk. It wasn’t uncommon for these forms of AI to be seen as lesser than that of their creators, it had been something so commonly believed and agreed upon; however, Ren never found himself seeing a program of 1’s and 0’s as something to necessarily rise above or prove to be better than. 

An orange female Twi’lek, who wore a black clad dress suit, stood before the counter, exchanging words with the AI in what Ren could only assume was drink recommendations. It was with a clearing of his throat that Ren warranted the attention of both the blue hued AI and the female Twi’lek. 

> “Ren.”

> “Ariyah.”

Eye contact was made between the two humanoid species, a shared tension being created.

> “Good Morning, Mr. Ren. What can I do for you?”

The AI spoke with fondness, as though it had known the raven haired man for a time. With the AI’s interruption, the Twi’lek left with a scuff, her heels clacking noisily against the marbled floors. The hologram displayed a species similar to that of Ren’s; however, of which true origin it was to display, had been something that had failed to be enlightened to him. A fit grey tux with a white undershirt and a purple and black striped tie, beautifully complemented the darker hues of the AI’s skin tone. Salim, a name granted to the AI as though to appear less robotic and more that of a human, stood contently behind his counter, looking up to Ren as he shuffled through his pocket to lay down a gold coin upon the marble counter. 

> “An extension of two nights.”

> “As you wish, Mr. Ren.” 

A beat passed, as the AI collected the coin from the counter. 

> “May I ask why you extended your stay?”
> 
> “I thought it was unprofessional to ask such a thing?”
> 
> “I was only asking for--”
> 
> “I know Salim, I am simply teasing.”

Though Salim’s nervousness was warranted, Ren was no stranger to destroying technology, and AI alike, when it did not approach him in a way he so liked. Salim released a heavy sigh of relief, his eyes looking towards Ren once more, allowing the man to once more continue.

> “Snoke. I am being called to Snoke.”

His deep baritone voice spooke hushed, preventing a third party from overhearing the conversation. 

> “Ah, Snoke.” 

A click of the AI’s metaphorical tongue, gave the ability for any to view his opinion on the elderly man; it stunk with a riddle of disgust. Such disgust was not lost on Ren; truthfully, it wasn’t lost on anyone in connections to the High Table. Snoke was viewed as brash and potentially dangerous to the High Tables stable ways, yet the money he had accumulated over the years was soon to earn him a seat at the very table. 

> “I have processed your order, Mr. Ren. You have extended your stay by two executive days.”

> “Yes, thank you Salim.”
> 
> “A pleasure, Mr. Ren.”

With a pat to the marbled counter, Ren turned his attention to the golden glass doors. 

> “Mr. Ren, if I may?”

Ren’s head swiveled in the direction of the Salim, his hand now resting on the strap of his leather messenger bag, as to adjust the strap. 

> **“Beware who you associate with, Mr. Ren.”**

And with that, Salim dissipated into nothingness. 

Had Ren any time, he would have paused and analyzed the meaning of his words. ‘Beware’? Was it a threat? A shake to his head is what he did to gather his thoughts. There was no time for speculation, he had wasted enough time with excessive sleep and idle conversation. 

With a handful of steps and hand on the cold metal door handle, Ren exposed himself to the cold New York air. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This will be a series and while I do not currently have a certain number of chapters predicted, this will likely be a fairly long series. I look forward to having the first chapter out soon and be prepared for an emotional rollercoaster ladies and gentlemen <:
> 
> If you have anything in particular that you would like to see in this series please feel free to comment and I will take it into consideration!
> 
> Have a great day and stay safe <3


End file.
